


Deconstruction

by Celtic_Knot



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Language, Gen, Thoughts on Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celtic_Knot/pseuds/Celtic_Knot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Can she see it? See that sometimes no how much you’re willing to sacrifice it will never be enough, you still lose. Someone else still loses, because you’re not enough. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>For someone who claims to hate humans, Shiranui spends an awful lot of time trying to understand them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deconstruction

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Hakuouki, nor did I in any way contribute to its creation. All rights go to their respective owners.
> 
>  **WARNINGS:** depictions of violence and blood (although got super graphic), strong language, angst, emotional baggage, volatile emotions
> 
> This fic mostly follows along Sano's route, but the ending is a conglomeration of stuff (you could probably call it AU)

* * *

 

Humans seem to have this innate ability to self-destruct. For creatures with already short lives, they’re constantly finding new and exciting ways to shorten them even further. Shifting politics explode into full blown wars overnight, and the ashes of thousands of people killed become the soil the victors trod upon until they too are wiped out. That’s a lot of bodies returned to the earth, for the sake of pointless endeavors that never seem to accomplish anything other than massive amounts of devastation. At least it makes for good fertilizer to grow the funeral flowers with. But they’re going to need a lot more flowers than what they’ve got if they hope to mask the stench of death that constantly hangs over them. Human lives vanish like fallen stars that are quickly forgotten in the light of new ones. And if what Amagiri is telling him is true, then there’s about to be a meteor shower. Honestly, while the news he brings about the humans isn’t exactly unwelcome, it’s the other part that has him less than pleased.

“So what you’re telling me is I’m going to be stuck spending time with that prick?”

“It would be wise to address him more respectfully, but yes. From what we gathered at the Ikedaya Inn before being interrupted, the Choshu are planning to force entrance into the Imperial palace. Kazama and I shall be there supporting Satsuma.” _I figured as much._

“And that bastard wants my help, even though Satsuma and Choshu aren’t exactly pals? I’m flattered.” Shiranui is sure to throw out one more derogatory term for Kazama, simply because Amagiri said he shouldn’t. Kazama can come shut him up personally if he has a problem. “His pride must be aching right about now. This is great.” He makes an attempt to muffle his laughter against his arm that’s more for show than anything else.

Amagiri side steps his barbed comment completely. Seriously, this guy is no fun. “Although they are currently in opposition, Kazama predicts the two of them will combine forces in the near future.”

“Fine, fine. I’m in. Just as long he doesn’t expect me to get off my ass to help him personally. I don’t owe him jack shit.” As much as the thought of spending time in the oppressively egotistical presence of Kazama makes him want to down several bottles of sake, he’s already involved with the Choshu. Might as well go all in at this point.

“I will inform Kazama of your decision.” That’s all says before excusing himself.

According to what Amagiri had said earlier, their espionage at the Ikedaya had been brought to an abrupt end by the arrival of the Shinsengumi. Those wolves were just one more playing piece on the board. There are so many moving parts when it comes to these human games, everything is so dynamic. Half the time they don’t even seem to know all the rules of their own engagement. Kazama would say that’s because they’re stupid (Shiranui thinks it has more to do with their short attention spans). But Kazama… He has always despised the humans, claiming they were attempting to destroy all of the demons. It’s not a completely unfair statement. He personally doesn’t believe the two can live intermingled. Sometimes differences crack chasms into the earth, and they’re just too large to cross. But every once in a while someone is stupid enough to jump into the fissure, to fall to the hell where opposites can commingle. He’d been dumb enough once, so had a guy from Choshu. And that’s why he’s in the position he’s in now. That guy… He was different. He’d been someone Shiranui could call friend until he had died. That almost never happens in the demon world. Someone being your lifelong friend. Maybe someone owes you their life as a debt, but friendship? Rarely. Their lives are too long, eventually you get really fucking sick of being around the same people, with the same dim personalities. Demons’ lives tend to be much longer than humans, so they burn steadily. Only small spikes when the perfect conditions are met. Humans, they burn out so so quickly. But man is it a great show. Their flames go from small to big, red to blue, there’s crackling and popping. Sometimes they generate this really intense heat that boils their blood, and drives them with a ferocity that nearly overcomes the weakness of their bodies. He thinks that’s when they come closest to being demons. Fascinating stuff, but pretty volatile. So volatile that they’ve torched more than one demon village to the ground along with them.

For all that he finds intriguing about humans, he hates much more. They are so damn fickle, for one. Whether it’s just them trying to fit so much into their depressingly short lives, or a chronic character flaw he doesn’t care. It’s ridiculous how quickly they jump from one thing to the next, to the next. That’s why he’s learned to not give a shit about who is allied, or who is the victor. It changes before he can count to ten. Everything is expendable to them. Things, people, demons… All of it. Time and time again demons have assisted humans, only to be crumpled up and thrown onto the fire. They don’t even have any loyalty to their own kind. He’d put money on himself and Kazama hooking up before he’d bet on the current alliances lasting all the way to the end of the impending war. Backstabbing is a really popular defense mechanism for them. They see devastation’s blade coming, and toss their friends onto it. Making sure it’s the other guy who bleeds out on their sharpness of their collective decisions. He has wanted to kill Kazama one thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-six times since he met the guy. And never once acted on it. Why? Kazama is a pure blood, he’s a clan leader, he is in a position of honor and there are _rules._ Admittedly, he takes a much looser interruption of said rules than, say Amagiri… But still, he’d never spill the blood of another oni just to get himself ahead, or because the guy is an insufferable ass. The humans go on and on about these lofty ideals, and true warrior spirit. It’s all fake. Empty words they tell themselves to breathe meaning into fleeting lives. It’s easier to face death when they’ve deluded themselves into believing it means something. Pathetic. You don’t get to fear death when you bring it crashing down on your own head. They create with one hand, and destroy with the other. Too bad one hand is faster than the other…

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You would think breaking into a house (even if it is the imperial palace) wouldn’t be all that difficult. Apparently when you’re a human, it’s that difficult. The Choshu have shattered like a bunch of headless chickens, and Shiranui can practically sense his friend rolling in his grave. Their planning process had left something to desired, and the whole ‘storming the imperial palace’ idea turned into a giant clusterfuck pretty quickly. At least this one group stayed at Kuge gate to keep fighting. There’s some scrap of honor there, some tiny shred that can maybe be woven back into something great. So he’ll stick with these guys. See if he can’t bail a little water out of this rapidly sinking ship. Not to mention he’s itching for a fight himself. Battles have always excited him. Amagiri has chastised him for being too rash, too impulsive in combat. Sure, he jumps right in but it’s not without thought. Every second he’s reading the pulse of the battle. Who’s the leader? Can they actually fight, and where’s the weak link? What’s the surrounding area like? _What are they fighting for?_ All these things go into determining what strategy he’ll use, and who’s the most worthy opponent. Above all else, that’s what he craves. Someone who can push him to the brink of death, because that moment where you’re about to teeter over the edge is when you’re most alive. When everything you’ve ever had to live for comes rushing up to meet you, and you either grab hold of it and live, or watch it all flash by as you fall. He has only reached that point once in his life, and has been chasing it ever since.

Footsteps strike the ground with ever increasing speed. The judiciary commissioners are approaching, with some Shinsengumi mutts in tow. Not exactly what he’d call a fair fight. Choshu’s forces have been split three ways, and these guys are bringing a united front of two different groups. The voice of one of the commissioners is especially grating, when he calls out for the Choshu to surrender. This guy should be the first one to die, but he waits. Allows the humans to fight their own battle until his ragged group of rebels are pushed harshly onto the defensive. As much as it pains him to say it, Choshu is fucked. The best they can hope for at this point is the chance to get the hell out of here. Not a problem. He grabs his gun, index finger sliding over the trigger. This gun might seem unfair to the humans he’s about to kill, but really it’s the only thing giving them a chance. Employing the power of his true demon form against them would make it way too easy, so he holds himself back. Tries to fight as much like a human as possible. Wraps all of his excess strength up into this tiny weapon. How else could he prolong that dizzying rush he gets when blood starts to flow? He could use a sword like Kazama, but…. This gun is a pretty neat weapon. Invented by humans to overcome their weakness. They do that a lot. Find something they aren’t very good at, and create something else to fill that purpose. This weapon kills without a lot of the risk, or skill required by a blade. They’ve made battle more impersonal, and more deadly by bringing the gun to life.

Shiranui has always been fascinated by human inventions. Has spent hours taking them apart, and seeing if he can put them back together. He can never get them back together quite right. Maybe it’s because his kind has no need for such things, so he lacks that sense of ingenuity that the humans have. And that is sort of frustrating. For all that they destroy, how are they still so good at creating? It doesn’t make much sense. So he dissembles each piece of whatever he can get his hands on. Sees if by undoing the process that put it together he can free the sentiments of its creator. Figure out what went into it, and what had been hoped for as the return. The gun came to him by coincidence. He’d plucked it off a dead guy, just to see what the fabled _gun_ of the west looks like. Naturally, he’d brought it home and studied it. Accidentally shot himself in the hand in the process. The string of curses that flew from his mouth could have made Kazama’s mother blush. The pain collapsed under curiosity at the sight of the ring of gunpowder left on his skin even after the wound had healed. Gritty, and black with this strange scent. Didn’t taste very good either, sorta burnt actually. It didn’t take long to figure out that that powder was somehow responsible for the explosion that had expelled a metal ball through his flesh and bone. He’d broken it open, and taken it apart until he knew exactly how the hammer, lock, trigger, and bullet worked together to unleash bodily harm. Each mechanism alone was just a piece of harmless metal, it was the _collectiveness_ of all those parts that made a gun. Of course the thing was useless after his exploration, he always seems to destroy an integral piece of whatever he toys with. But acquiring a new one had been easy enough. Shouts from the judiciary officers interrupt his memories of his first encounter with firearms. How rude. Someone’s about to get dead. He steps forward twirling his metal companion around his fingers.

“I’ll be playing with you today. I hope you all realize what a huge honor this is.” The last word hasn’t even tugged its way free of his lips when he pulls the trigger. The gun kicks out in joy, when it spits the bullet toward his target. An officer drops dead, and the entire crowd is stock still. The pathetic lot of them look like mice huddling in fear of a snake. “Don’t tell me the sound of my gun scared you?”

“As kind as it is of you to play, don’t you think using a gun is a little unfair?” Found him. This man with the spear, he’s the one Shiranui wants to fight. It may have been the first time he’s heard a gun go off, but any surprise has rolled right off him. Clearly he’s been in enough battles that blood has oiled him up, fear just won’t stick to him.

“Eh, seems fair to me. You’ve got that gigantic poker, yourself. Shouldn’t be too hard to reach me with that thing.” _Do it, I dare you._

The grin that spreads onto the other guy’s face is priceless. It splits his lips with confidence, and anticipation comes charging out from behind his eyes. A spear of this size is quite heavy, yet it sails at him with tremendous speed. So fast another opponent would be skewered without a doubt, but everything works just a bit differently when you’re a demon. His body perceives a threat, and his senses heighten remarkably. Suddenly he can hear his own pulse, and that of his opponent hammering in his ear. Can hear muscles and bone slide beneath skin, and predict where his enemy will move based on which ligaments go taut. Even more impressive might be his sight. The spear that had been a blur of motion was reduced to crawling pace. Every single instant of the attack is visible to him. Stepping out of the way is child’s play, but he doesn’t want make it too obvious. Doesn’t want these humans to see exactly how far in advanced he saw the thrust coming. So he waits. 1… 2… 3… And leans centimeters out of the path of the spear’s tip.

“Well, you’re either ballsy as all hell, or just plain stupid. Seriously, who charges a man with a gun?”

“You wave that toy around to get others to keep their distance, that’s pretty sad for a warrior and a man.” Ooh man, this just keeps getting better doesn’t it? While the coward commission stands around gaping, this guy is lecturing _him_ about proper behavior as a warrior. Too bad this poor bastard has no idea who he’s dealing with.

He grins. The kind where his lips pull back to reveal all his teeth in a decidedly feral gesture that probably resembles a snarl more than a smile. “I’m Shiranui Kyo. I’ll have your name.”

“Sanosuke Harada, captain of the Shinsengumi’s 10th Division.” Harada holds that spear leveled at his chest, despite the easy smile on his face. They might have more in common than he originally thought. He doesn’t dislike the guy, on the contrary he’s the most fun Shiranui has had in a long time. Killing him will almost be a shame. Playmates are getting harder and harder to come by. He’s about to fire off another round when-

“Excuse me!” What the fuck? A wisp of a girl in boy’s clothing flings herself between him and Harada. She doesn’t honestly think she’s going to fight him, does she? _Wait a minute. Is this the girl who Kazama… No way._ A sparking feeling in the back of his neck jumps up in recognition of her heritage. She’s doesn’t look like it, but she’s definitely a demon. In this swarm of humans there’s someone like him, except she’s not. She’s less like him, and more like the humans. That stings a bit.

“Chizuru, what are you doing-“

“Shiranui-san, that’s correct right? Could you um… Leave now?” Her voice shakes, but she’s steadfast. His eyes narrow. She can’t really not know what she is, can she?

“What the hell do you think you’re trying to pull, kid? If you think you can screw with me, I’ll _end_ you.” The way she flinches at his words is all the proof he needs. She has no fucking idea. Or else she’d realize that her place as a female demon means if he killed her, he’d be doing a huge disservice to their kind. Not to mention that tall, blonde, and pompous would skin him alive.

“You were serving as rear guard for the Choshu, right? Well they’ve all escaped, so do you have another reason to fight?” The terror written in every line of her body is obvious, yet she still stands firm. A raised eyebrow encourages her to keep going. Why is she making herself do this? What does she think she has to gain from protecting these guys?

“The Shinsengumi has been tasked with guarding the Imperial estate. If you insist on drawing your gun, we’ll um…”

He signs, and returns his gun to its holster. Scared as she is, she played the game well. Courage deserves reward. “I’ve got to hand it to you kid, you’ve got balls. And I just happen to be in a great mood today, so I’ll let you go. But don’t get too full of yourself. Next time we meet I won’t hold back.”

Harada had been carefully maneuvering himself between him and the kid for the last few seconds. Ha. A body guard for the little demon girl. How nice. Something in his stomach twists at the sight, wringing bitterness into his blood. Bitterness, and a touch of pity. It will happen to her too. Once they see what she really is, they’ll get her to light herself on fire to keep them warm. And she’ll do it too. She’ll burn happy to be of use, to feel accepted. And then… He shoots at old memories that try to present themselves behind his eyelids.

“I’m all set on friends, but I’m in need of a good enemy. But how about we save that fun for later?”

“Yeah, this time I’ll let you off. But I’m not really a patient kind of guy. So I don’t think I’ll be able to wait very long before we play again.” He chuckles, before taking off. Something uncomfortable had been snaking its way up his back seeing a human and demon together like that, but that’s hilariously stupid. Stupid, but this weird aggravation still ticks under skin despite the fact that he knows they’re doomed. They’re friends. But their friendship is built on sand, and when high tide pulls the foundation out from under them. It will all come crashing down. Splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. He’ll learn to fear her, and everything that makes her different. She’ll learn that her lineage makes her beyond his understanding, beyond the reach of true companionship. A long time ago he might have believed they could make it work. Harada is a worthy opponent, an interesting guy. Tons of guts too. But he’s still a human. And humans bring nothing good to demons. They either go and die, or end up wishing you death on you.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The dull thud of a body hitting the ground bounces around the walls of Aburano Kouji chasing after the previous sound of a gunshot. Fucking arrogant bastard trying to tell him and Amagiri what they could or couldn’t do. They were lucky to have two demons backing up their ridiculous cause, and all Amagiri was trying to do was spare them a little bloodshed by making a deal. The Satsuma men gaze upon him in varying expressions of fear and betrayal. Oh please, did they really think he’d take orders from them? They should remember who’s doing who a favor. If it weren’t for Choshu deciding to pal up with Satsuma he wouldn’t even be here right now. He laughs to release the pressure created by the boiling sensation that has built up in his body. He _hates_ these men he’s being forced to work with. Ungrateful, cowardly, bastards. Turning on their old allies, and trapping them in this alleyway. They call demons beasts, when they tear each other apart in the name of imaginary ideals and conflicts that are cheap masks for ulterior motives. Disgusting snakes, couldn’t get their bellies much lower to the ground if they tried. He’d kill them all if he could, but it wouldn’t do anything other than create a bunch of extra bullshit he doesn’t want to deal with.

“Would anyone else like to interrupt? I promise if you survive my first bullet I might listen to what you have to say.” Waving his gun in the direction of the Satsuma men causes several of them to jump back. _Bang!_ He pretends to shoot the first one that flinched away from his weapon, and the little demon girl cringes. Looks at him with thinly veiled horror. Her mind works like a human’s. In her eyes he is showing a blatant disregard for life, whether it be friend or foe. Believe it or not, she’s wrong. He does value life a great deal. And that is what drives him to kill bastards like the guy who spoke out. When scum like that lives, while far greater men die… A face flashes across his mind. It’s wrong. It’s not fair. Not all life is of equal value, and he’s just evening things out. Can’t allow too many of these low lifes to live. Not when there are guys that have defied what he knows and hates about humans who have lost their lives. How does a man who willingly betrays his former allies as if it were no more difficult than changing clothes deserve to walk the earth, when a guy who _never_ wavered from his honor (even when riddled with disease) died? It makes no sense. No matter how many times he tries to break that thought down into smaller pieces to digest, he still can’t stomach it. So he shot the guy. And not an ounce of him regrets it.

Humans are confusing. He’s killed a bunch of them, and each time he’s learned something. He’s learned the way eyes dull until they resemble glass. Reflecting light from outside, but containing none within. He’s learned that some humans _know_ they’ve been mortally wounded, and accept it. Others struggle, and cry out, and waste what little time and breathe they have left lamenting their own misfortune. Finally, he’s learned the difference between a body hitting the ground and _then_ dying or life fleeing in mid drop. In the former, they contort a bit in air. Reflexes trying to right the failing body, but usually coming up short. Several seconds of gasping breath, and then nothing. The latter case is more interesting to Shiranui, in its randomness. The body crumbles up like a piece of paper, no fold ever quite the same. Every death unique in the way the corpse lands. Each one of these things are components of the end, but they don’t seem to fit into the puzzle of a human life. Maybe it’s because they’re not so unique to humans. Death looks pretty similar for all creatures. That thought is shit though. It serves him, and his goals no purpose.

“It appears we are done with the _rude interruptions,”_ Amagiri sounds tied, “What is your answer? Will you give us Chizuru Yukimura in exchange for allowing you to leave here with your lives?”

“Well Sano, you heard the guy. What do you want to do?” Nagakura, at least that’s what he thinks the guy’s name is, speaks up clearly jeering at them. Now this guy is pretty intriguing as well, although arrogant.

Shiranui is watching Harada now. _Don’t be boring._ One wrong move, one sign of wavering and he’ll shoot him dead. If he wants to be predictable, then he’s outlived his purpose. If he’s going to act like any other human, his life has approximately the same value as an ant. Those little insects just march along one indistinguishable from the next. The whole point of letting Harada go was to save some amusement for a later date, after all. Shiranui lacks patience, but still finds himself in no hurry to kill Harada even though he says otherwise. It’s not every day he meets someone who talks back, someone who doesn’t shake in fear of him. He could sneeze and half these guys behind him would cower. But not Harada. He’s smiling like he’s just heard the best joke when he responds to Nagakura.

“Do you even have to ask? These guys are pathetic, even Heisuke’s jokes aren’t this bad.” The grin on his face is contagious, and Shiranui can feel the same expression spread onto his face.

He laughs, doubling over. Ribs aching with the sound. “Oh man, I love it when you talk all tough. You’re pretty outnumbered, though. Think you can handle it?”

This is too great. Really he couldn’t have asked for better. They’re not afraid of him. They have convictions strong enough that they’ll look a demon in the eyes and make fun of him. It should piss him off. It doesn’t. Instead it fills him with the kind of excitement that has long since been like a drug to him. Sending lightning through his veins, taking him higher and higher until he’s standing above everything that taunts him in quiet moments. Dull moments are dangerous. Every second of stillness that goes by hooks another weight onto him, heavier and heavier, until he’s trapped in a period of stasis. It’s easier to keep moving, keep living at a pace so rapid that nothing can linger on him. A flick of the fingers is all it take to signal the Satsuma men to attack. The sounds of battle have his nerves lighting up with anticipation. His gun is cocked, and his finger presses the trigger.

“Please wait!” He sends the bullet toward the sky to avoid killing the Yukimura girl. Seriously, again? Someone should really tell this girl that stepping in-between battling men is fantastic way to die. But death is the last thing she wants. Not for herself, but even more so not for her friends. Stupid. It’s about time he teaches her a lesson, because apparently the humans have failed her on that front.

“Hmm. What is it? Did you decide you’re coming with us?” Give her hope. Make her think he’ll consider Amagiri’s bargain. She’s not quite stupid enough to believe her friends, despite all their skill, will come out on top.

Her throat works to swallow anxiety and put words in its place, “You’ll leave everyone else alone if I go with you, right?”

There it is. Just like he had predicted. Her life, despite all its value to demon kind, means less to her than those of a bunch of pathetic humans. It’s almost admirable. At least being raised by humans has not left her as self-centered and greedy as many are. Yet it makes his muscles go ridged, and his teeth grind together. How can she be so very stupid? How can she not see she’s being _used?_ Still he reaches into himself, and pulls out the perfect smile for this situation. Just the right balance of confidence and amusement.

“Well that’s the spirit! These guys could take a page from your book. A little self-sacrifice is a good thing. Still…” His gun is pointed at a Shinsengumi man. At this range there’s no way he’ll miss even in the sea of bodies clashing in the alley.

“What are you doing!?” Her face has gone white, and there’s this delicious terror and pleading in her voice. _Do you get it now kid?_ He’ll teach her to not be so trusting. Especially not when it comes to helping humans. Trust is expensive to give, but cheap to break.

“I can just kill everyone here, and then we’ll take you afterwards. It’s just a better deal. I get to kill worthless humans, Amagiri gets to deliver you to Kazama. Win-win.” Can she see it? See that sometimes no how much you’re willing to sacrifice it will never be enough, you still lose. Someone else still loses, because _you’re_ not enough.

“But… but you said you’d-” Outrage starts to coil up in her voice, and he is basking in the monstrous light it shines on him.

“No kid. _I_ said nothing. If you want to discuss letting this scum live, Amagiri is the one you want to talk to.” Anger builds and builds in her eyes, every new spark of rage sliding into a hole left by fading fear. Oh god, is it fun to rile her up. To foster that fragile sense of hope, only to rip its wings off and let it crash to the ground. He purposely spits out viscous words that jab into sensitive areas, and send shock waves through his opponents. Surprise is one of his favorite emotions. People can’t hide their true feelings when they’re shocked. It peels off their mask, and leaves every ugly, rotten, part of them exposed. They may try to wrap hatred in ribbons of joy, or paint over revulsion with smiles, or cloak deceit in silk spun from honesty. It doesn’t work. These disguises can’t last forever, and surprise only serves to speed up the decay.

“How could you?! You’re… You’re disgusting!” As much fun as it is to push her to the point of screaming at him, his fingers clench around his gun. How dare she call him disgusting? She’s the one who hadn’t been observant enough. He hadn’t promised anything. Breaking a promise he didn’t even make made him a monster to her. Made him lower in her eyes than the humans who survive on the blood drawn by shattered pieces of trust. Ironic isn’t it? That standing on opposing sides distorts your vision so badly that you condemn others for the faults you defend in your comrades. As long as someone is useful humans will overlook anything, until they need a convenient excuse to dispose of you.

Amagiri looks over at the earlier mention of his name, and shakes his head. “Shiranui, what am I going to do with you?”

Shiranui grins at him in return. Amagiri won’t hold him back, he knows better than that. Knows better than to try to rein him in when he’s like this. For as much as he busts the other demon about his thoroughly lacking sense of fun, he’s pretty alright. He may not understand all of Shiranui’s reasons for doing things, but at least he acknowledges there _is_ a reason. How many times has he been written off as blood thirsty? Nothing is without reason. Nothing exists entirely independent of everything else. He kills because he’s learned that some people deserve to live more than others. He only does things he enjoys because he got sick of being fucking unhappy. He backs Choshu because somewhere along the line he had a soft spot for a human. That last one makes his eyes sting, and his lips threaten to abandon the smile he’s been wearing. A quick glance at the little monster, throws a veil back over that face and allows him to focus on the present.

“Oh geez, are you mad? Guess I have no choice, wouldn’t want to make you cry. Here, let me show you how compassionate I can be!” She is not his main target, but he’ll take another shot at her while he’s at it. “Hey Harada! I’m so nice that if you get on your knees and say ‘I don’t care what happens to her, just please let us live’ then I mightlet you go.”

Harada has been watching Yukimura and him go at it for the past few minutes. Observing carefully, making sure he doesn’t make a move to kill her. Now he smiles, and compliments her bravery. Shiranui bites down on his tongue to keep from laughing. If only Harada knew that she’s not in anywhere near as much danger as he is. Really he’s doing a bit of foreshadowing for the kid. There _will_ come a point when these Shinsengumi guys don’t care about her fate. When saving their own hides will be more important than any act of bravery she ever committed for them. The Satsuma behind him recede like a wave that’s been stung by the rocks. Harada’s glare turned on him is a sight to behold. Everything striped away until only the rawest elements of fury remain. Looks like he hit a nerve, and Harada isn’t going to stand for it. Good. Let him take his rage and use it to root himself to this life, grasp onto it even when it tears his hands bloody and stings them with pain and regret. Life sucks, dying sucks worse.

“You son of bitch!” Harada is practically roaring, “Come and get me! I’d rather die with my hands around your throat than let you lay a finger on her so that I can live! You think taking out the Captain of the 10th division is so easy? Think again.”

Let the fun begin. The tide of the battle begins to shift, the obvious advantage of the Satsuma beginning to be devoured by the sheer aggression and determination of the Shinsengumi. The Guardians aren’t fairing as well. He watches a sword piece one of those turncoats through the back. The tip winks gleefully from beneath the blood. Well that’s karma for you. Speaking of switching sides… That kid with the long ponytail seems to have been talked into backing his former comrades much to the relief of Harada, Nagakura, and Yukimura. It’s apparent those three men have fought together for a long time. There’s knowledge in the way they guard each other’s blind spots, and camaraderie in how they grin at each other after each kill they make. His eyes flicker to Amagiri. The two of them have no such connection. If either of them managed to get their stupid ass killed, it would be unfortunate for the already dwindling number of demons, maybe a bit upsetting…

But life would go on. Amagiri wouldn’t mourn his loss as anything more than a fellow demon, and a valuable warrior. Kazama would probably laugh… He knows he would throw himself a party if that guy kicked the bucket. Humans do this fighting together thing pretty well for a bunch of creatures so fond of jumping ship. That Nagakura guy is especially impressive, weaving death in and out of his opponents with each swing of sword. Impressive, but almost as much of a loud mouth as Shiranui himself. Man does he want to pump that guy full of lead. One bullet for his arm to make him drop his blade, another for his knee to stop him from escaping, maybe a couple in various locations around his abdomen. Those kinds of wounds are fun. They don’t kill instantly, instead they claw at your insides with agony. They pin you down while death slinks closer and closer. Give you time to relive all of your failures, and all of things you will leave unfinished because your life is finished. His arm is rock steady when he points the muzzle of his gun at Nagakura.

“Hey Shiranui! You might want to be careful. With all these people crammed into such a small space you have a better chance of hitting one of your own guys than us.” Harada’s teasing tone crashes against the tension of the alleyway. Fucking bastard is right though. While Harada is moving fluidly with that spear twirling like some sort of demonic dancer, the Satsuma men are stumbling all over each other with all the grace of a one legged duck.

Shiranui snarls, “God damnit! You’re all fucking useless! Not only are you not helping, you’re in my _way!_ ”

His foot connects with a Satsuma guy who had the misfortune of staggering into his path. Ribs crack like twigs beneath his foot, and he sends the guy rolling into the wall. Shiranui’s fairly certain he kicked half the guy’s ribs in despite trying to hold himself back. Damn humans, do they have glass for bones? No, not glass. Glass is transparent. Humans not so much. They’re layers of contradictions lined by muscle, foolishness grinding against bone, and selfishness buried within tissues. This is not exactly the same for every human. But he’s blown holes through many of them by now, and these are the observations he’s made. There are exceptions. But those exceptions don’t seem to be conducive to survival because that man who showed him he was wrong died. Died from his body failing. So maybe human’s need all of those horrid traits to strengthen their wretchedly weak bodies. Harada shows no signs of illness, or decay…. Is he just luckier? Shiranui is curious now. What holds Harada together? What does he have inside him that is so strong, yet nothing like what other humans use to bind themselves to life? Only one way to find out. Gotta bring his insides to the outside.

The sounds of panic rising to embrace a howl of pain stop him from attempting to put a bullet into Harada. Nagakura is mowing people over to get to a fallen body, with the girl right on his heels. Harada turns his back to Shiranui, and muscles his way through opponents. Goring them on his spear until he has reached the others. Could this battle get any stranger? What the literal hell was Harada thinking taking off like that? Son of bitch is about to get shot in the back, when his eyes catch onto what has them all wound up. The other one… Toudou? Amagiri dealt a nasty wound to the kid’s chest. It only takes him half a second to realize that the chance of survival is zero. Lungs are probably compressed, and ribs broken. Blood pours from his mouth, and stains his teeth when he tries to smile. All that blood is internal. Filling up his chest cavity, and drowning him from within. Damn. Harada is gripping the kid’s shoulders, while he rests his head on his lap. Nagakura is kneeling beside them, with one arm supporting Toudou’s back and the other gripping his knee. The agony they’re in is palpable, but the only tears that fall are from Yukimura who is gripping the kid’s hand. Stupid idiot tries to talk and more blood bubbles out. And they say _he’s_ the cruel one. Couldn’t Amagiri have just gone and broken the kid’s neck or something? Instead he lingers. He speaks, and reaches out for Yukimura. Actions that belong to the living, that he’s stealing back from insistent grasp of death. It’s a truly pitiful sight. And for all Harada’s tough guy act, it’s obvious now that although he’s seen death, he has never seen the death of a dear friend. There’s despair circling in his eyes, and fear etched into the muscles of his face. The kid coughs, and a nasty blob of blood pours down his chin. Harada’s knuckles have gone white, he’s yelling. Trying to convince those marked for death to stay doesn’t work. Shiranui has tried. All it does is make it more painful on all parties involved. They leave you anyway. And they depart feeling as though they’ve failed because they can’t help but die even as you beg and plead and scream.

Tears are fucking annoying. Trembling lips, and shaking hands piss him off. But the wall of grief that surrounds them is too heavy. It shoves him down, and bends him beneath its tremendous weight. Bends his body until old scars begin to tear, and he’s sent spiraling back to where Harada is now. _Don’t go. Please not yet. How dare you! I need you…_ He shakes his head violently, biting his cheek until the bitterness of his own blood taints his tongue. And then his cheek heals, because he can’t be allowed to relish in his own pain. This has gone on long enough. The battle has died down, after the hell the Shinsegumi guys unleashed. It’s a clear shot. He can take the kid out no problem, put him out of his freaking misery. It’s the kindest thing to do. Harada and the other guy will curse him out, probably try to kill his ass. But it’s a clear shot. The little demon girl will cry and scream, and she’ll know heartbreak like never before. But it’s a clear shot. Clear except for the prickling feeling in his eyes. Except for the voice of another chiming in his eyes, rich laughter, gentle whispers, and garbled farewells. Except for the trembling in his arm that belies all the strength he has (all the strength that wasn’t enough). Fuck. This. He pulls the trigger. He misses. Not only does he miss, he’s not even close. The bullet digs itself a grave in the dirt several yards from his target. He should shoot again, put this whole thing to rest. But his arm drops to his side. There’s no way. No way he can steal their last few minutes together when he would have sold his soul for just a few more seconds with Tak- with his human friend. Shiranui avoids even thinking of his name while on the battlefield. A name is too strong, it creates too many connections to memories and emotions he can’t deal with right now. Amagiri’s eyes are questioning.

“I’m done with this. No point in sticking around when most of our fucking beacons of courage have already run away.” Shiranui nearly spits the words while he turns and marches away. Harada, Nagakura, and Yukimura take off carrying the kid. He’s been forgotten. Harada will pay for that.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“Stop! H-hey, you’re not allowed to go in there!” The last guard’s warning has about as much effect as a house cat hissing at a lion.

Shiranui replies by blowing a hole through his head. The bullet doesn’t seem to meet any resistance until it lodges into the wall. This is too easy. While all the Shinsengumi guys poured out of the Magistrate’s Office to fight the Satsuma-Choshu alliance, all he’d had to do was pick off a few pesky guards and bam. Entrance granted. The body makes a nice welcome mat, and he wipes his feet on it before entering. Normally it’s not his style to be so disrespectful to the dead, but he’s a in a particularly foul mood, and this poor bastard didn’t even have the guts to go for his sword before Shiranui shot him. Words, no matter how harshly spoken, are no match for lead propelled by gun powdered. Swords don’t fare all that much better, but at least dying with his blade in his hand would have given him something more like a warrior’s death. Instead he’ll lie there in dirt. The blood draining from his head staining the earth with his weakness. Nobody will come to mourn for him until long after his body has grown cold.

“Is that really it for guards? Not that it matters to me how humans choose to protect their things, but this is just sad.”

“You!” a female voice cuts through what should be silence.

The Magistrate’s Office isn’t quite as empty as he originally thought it would be. Looks like the Shinsengumi stashed the little lady in here. It almost funny, the way she’s partway to the door as if she were welcoming him home. He’s quiet for a few moments. Allowing her shock to melt. To drip from her eyes down to her mouth leaving fear, and desperation in its place as she realizes her situation. Alone. She’s all alone with _him._ Where are her Shinsengumi friends now? All out fighting to save their own skins while she’s left here with those pathetic excuses for guards now all dead. Shows just how much they value her life. Kazama had told her she was a demon, the others had to know by now too. Looks like he was right again. Humans barely care to look out for their own, never mind an outsider like her. This is going to be great, showing her that the shield the Shinsengumi put around her was made of gold. Looks pretty, people rave about its value, but it’s soft. It yields to pressure and heat. Yukimura doesn’t seem to want any part of the games he’s planning. She’s got one hand on her short sword while she steps back. She looks as if she might yell for help.

“Whoa there, kid. Just calm down.” He smiles with all the charm of a cat whose grin is full of the bird’s feathers. “If anyone hears you and comes running I’ll just off ‘em as they show up. Not a bad way to spend my evening, but it’s probably not what you want.”

Her eyes are blown wide when he reaches for his gun. “What are you doing here? Did Kazama order you to kidnap me?”

“Ha! …Oh, please you can’t be serious. Don’t be an idiot. Why would I lift a finger for that asshole?”

“If that’s not it… then why?”

Why. That’s always the question isn’t it? His head tilts to the side, as if he can take all the different angles he views her from and overlap them to create a clearer picture. Something’s not right with this situation. She’s been told she’s a demon, the guys know she’s a demon. This brings him to his second favorite question word, _how?_ How is this still working for her when everything he’s learned over his expansive career of fucking with both humans and demons says it shouldn’t? The last picture his mind takes of her falls into the pile, completing it. There it is. Barely perceptible, but definitely there. Right there in her eyes when she looks at him. There’s fear and distrust, obviously. He’s earned both those emotions several times over, but that’s not all. She looks at him more like he’s some sort of exotic animal rather than one of her kind. Lips quirks into a smile that contradicts the anger that licks up from his stomach, and burns the back of his throat. Smiling when he’s pissed… He picked up this habit a long long time ago. This kid has a bad habit too, pretending she’s a human. Some habits are harder to break than others, but he’ll help her with hers. If there’s one thing he’s good at its dismantling illusions. Sometimes you need to split their skull open and shove the facts in there… This is a little more delicate. But he can do it. Tug each thread of her blindfold, unweaving it until it’s too late. Until she can’t unseen the truth.

“I should be asking you that. What are _you_ doing here? You know you’re a demon, right? Take my advice, demons and humans don’t go together.” Start the unraveling process with the obvious. Contradict the lies she tells herself, fraying them at the edges.

“That’s none of yo- Wait! You’re one to talk. You’re working with Choshu. Well… I-I’m working with the Shinsengumi. So that’s that. We’re doing the same thing.” There’s defiance painting her words into something bigger than her cowering frame should be able to produce.

But the words themselves… Oh man has she gone and done it now. Stepped on the tiger’s tail. How _dare_ she imply the two of them have anything in common other than the fact that they’re both demons. She’s a little bird that Mibu’s wolves caged up, and clipped her wings. He is nothing close to tame. He owes Choshu nothing. They are in no way in control of him, or his actions. Honestly, this whole fucking war can go shove itself up the shogun’s ass. It was never about the war, never about Choshu. Her mouths opens to speak, but his bullet races by her face taking her breath crashing into the wall.

“This isn’t for Choshu.” There’s none of his normal humor in the low growling tone he uses now. So rarely does he actually let true anger show. “I’m doing this for one guy.”

“What? I don’t understand…”

“There was this human from Choshu. He went and fought countless battles even though he was sick. They cut off his teacher’s head for going against the shogun. He died.” The explanation is terse. The emotions he’s been carrying around have been starting to get heavy. One finally falls out of his arms, and lands with a sound barely above a murmur, “…Humans die awfully easily, don’t they?”

Yukimura looks confused, looks almost like she pities him and his inability to let the past go. She’s right about one thing. He can’t let the past rest in peace, because he doesn’t want to not remember. Doesn’t want that person to fade into one of those memories where you feel sorta happy, sorta sad when you think about them, because it’s washed out. The shock of their death is gone. But the vividness of their life is gone too. In its place are muted colors that are comforting in their dullness. He doesn’t want to feel better, he wants it to hurt. Wants to feel that absence slice through him day after day, so he can write all his memories of them together in his blood until his hand and his heart can’t possibly forget. That’s probably unhealthy, but hey he heals quickly. Plenty of blood to spare. For so long he’s chewed his tongue whenever thoughts of his friend come to mind. But this little demon girl has him angry (hurt) enough that the he’s not quite done yet.

“The only reason I got involved with this mess the humans made is because of him. I don’t give a fuck about the Choshu.” Now would be a really good time to shut up, but it just keeps coming. “It doesn’t matter who comes out on top, Tokugawa, Satsuma, Choshu… Humans are all the same to me. It’s not like this war will actually solve anything. Give ‘em a few years they’ll find something else to kill each other over.”

It’s rare that he rambles on this long, especially to a stranger who he’s not actively trying to kill. His tongue feels tired. It’s difficult to form all these words without the lift of humor. Some things are serious though. This is serious. And for all his posturing, and intimidation. He’s trying to _help._

“Choshu got tired of hearing me talk like that, so they kicked me out.” Laughter struggles to cut through the bitterness that lines his throat. “It’s going to happen to you too. Right now you might think you’re all friends, but I promise they’re just using you.”

“They wouldn’t do that!”

Her confidence in them is disturbingly sound. It’s going to take a bit more tugging to get her facing in the right direction. Turning someone away from their fanciful story book pages to look at the flames outside their window is a hard task. But it’s better this way. Better to see betrayal burning its way to your door before you’re buried alive beneath searing rubble. And for all her attempts at certainty there’s the tiniest sliver of doubt. She can smell the smoke.

“Alright then. Why don’t you tell me why all your _friends_ are out there, and you’re in here all by yourself.” Her answer is on her lips, but he won’t give her a chance to speak it. Each word he speaks grows sharper, and sharper. If he’s going to relive being abandoned, she’s taking the knife of his agony to the heart. “Oh no, I’ve got it! It’s because they’re protecting you, right? Because you’re a girl, and they want to keep you safe? No. You’re a pain in the ass to them. Hell, I bet they’re thinking about how leaving you here is an awesome way to get rid of you.”

Lips twist cruelly when she practically whimpers. Hit her right where it hurts, guess the little demon isn’t so sure of her buddies after all. Doubt passes behind her eyes. But it’s not fresh. It’s a mature doubt, fully formed with pointed teeth that gnaw away convictions and trust. This doubt is not his doing. Sure he dragged it to the surface, but it is entirely of her own design. It’s all the fuel he needs to continue his assault. By the time he’s done with her, all her pretty lies and held dear (un) truths will be busted into itty bitty pieces that she’ll never be able to put together again. She’s going to suffer like he suffered. That’s guaranteed. It’s just not fucking fair that she thinks she can live in her realm of joy and friendship when he has been thrown away by his friend’s comrades. But for as much as he _wants_ to hurt her, wants to have someone else whose eyes reflect the same pain as his... This is still better for her than falling on the Shinsengumi’s sword. Even she can see it. The weight of what awaits her drags the corners of her lips into a tight frown.

“What’s with that look?” The slightly manic quality his voice held moments ago has traded places with a smooth mock-caring. “Aww poor thing. Did your friends already tell you to go? Too bad you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

“No!” Her shout pierces him with all her anguish. It’s worse than he originally thought. He had thought he would be sparing her this part, but it looks like the Shinsengumi guys were already starting to change their tune. Part of him is _almost_ disappointed. It would be nice to be wrong about this shit for once. Instead humans prove his point over and over again. Makes him look like a fucking genius. The storm is coming, her reactions only growing more, and more violent. All the threads he has unraveled for her, wrap tightly around her. The more she thrashes, the deeper they cut. Eventually she’ll bleed herself out, or stop struggling and come to accept he’s been right all along. “I don’t care what you say I’m not leaving!”

“I’m not a demon! I’m one of them!” His eyes narrow as soon as those words make it into the air. Talk about denial. The way demon sounds vile and sour coming off her tongue, while _them_ is laced with longing and admiration. It’s insulting. She can bitch and whine all she wants about wanting to stay with the Shinsengumi, but to deny the fabric of her existence... Does she think other demons haven’t suffered because of their heritage? Does she think she’s the only demon who has struggled to feel accepted? Selfish child. She has no right to make her pain, and her desires out to be greater than any other’s. You’d be hard pressed to come across a demon who has never felt any discomfort, but they endure. They have no choice. Being a demon is _not_ a choice. And god damn it if she thinks he’s going to let her stand here and trod all over the sacrifices their kind has had to make to simply remain in existence, she’s got another thing coming. A sharp crack leaps from his gun, and a line of red spreads across her cheek. Her hand comes up, smearing blood along her cheek bone in search of a wound that’s already gone. The disbelief and sorrow in her eyes is progress.

“You know what I’m saying is true, don’t you? You’re a monster. You don’t belong with humans.” _We’re monsters_.

That’s her breaking point. A shriek leaves his ears ringing, before she rushes him short sword drawn. Her blade is clouded with rage, and confusion. Each finger wrapped around her tsuka is white knuckled with fury. Every swing is predictable, and dodging wouldn’t be difficult even if he _wasn’t_ a demon. When someone fights with emotion this raw, their intentions to do harm are too close to the surface. Too easy to read. The swing at his neck screams _shut up,_ while the swipe at his stomach shouts _enough._ She is making terrible decision after terrible decision. Charging a guy with a gun? Same stupid idea Harada had had, only she lacks the skill and resolve to make it worth his time. At this range she would be so totally screwed if she were a human. Way too close to have any hope of dodging. But when he fires his next shot right at her head, her body moves to avoid it. It takes her a couple of seconds to realize that the bullet didn’t pass through her like it should have. A couple more moments and the impossibility of what she just did breaks over her. Each shattered piece of who she thought she was is lying at her feet. No human, no matter how skilled, would have been able to _see_ never mind avoid a bullet at point-blank range. Her face goes through several emotions, the blindfold is gone now. Ripped off, and shredded. Never will she be able to unsee that speeding bullet, or the reality of what she is.

“What? You shouldn’t be so surprised.” His grin is starting to make his cheeks ache. “A demon with your bloodline can dodge a bullet easily!”

Gunshots, and cannonballs wiz through the air outside, and pound the ground to a rhythm of war never seen before by the likes of the Shinsengumi. Shiranui had watched the fight during the day. Man after man mowed down by bullets. He was pretty happy that Harada managed to survive. He’s said again and again that he doesn’t care how the affairs of humans turn out, but Harada dying… Well, that doesn’t sit well with him. If Harada is going to die, he’s going to be the one to deliver the final blow. He’d even forgo his gun for the last attack to make it a more glorious death. And to bring him in intimate contact with the last shred of life leaving the body. There’s so much to learn from how someone dies. Unfortunately, guns (even during a contact shot) just don’t provide that kind of closeness. Guns have changed a lot of things… They rack up the death toll of a battle at alarming rates. Bullets are more independent than swords. Once you let em go they just bust through anything in their path. A blade needs constant guidance, constant feedback from its wielder. Every time it meets another blade it requires reassurance, rebalancing. Adjustments must be made seamlessly during the flow of battle for one to be able to emerge victorious. A gun doesn’t need any of that. The former pride of battle is clouded by gunpowder. But fewer and fewer humans care about that now. Why waste your time fighting hand to hand, or blade to blade when you can kill ten guys in the time it used to take to defeat one? Surely Yukimura saw, heard, how many of her ‘comrades’ were killed. Killed by guns fired from twenty plus feet away, and here she was having side stepped a bullet at a mere three.

“Do you get it now? This isn’t human. _You’re_ not human” There’s still arrogance, still triumph in his voice. But also a micro amount of tiredness sliding in. “What will your friends say when they see you do that? Do you really think they’ll stick around? You’re a monster to them.”

Monster. That word brings tears to her eyes. From the very beginning he has known what he is, so he can’t say he knows exactly what she’s experiencing. But it shouldn’t have to be this way. Why does being something other than human have to be so upsetting? Why does it have be inherently _bad?_ Somewhere along the line ‘human’ came to stand for compassion, sympathy, and tolerance, while demon is laid on the backs of those who are diabolical, fiendish, and cruel. Bullshit, all of it. He lets people call him monster without much issue. He’s rude, quick to anger, and even quicker to kill. The title is _deserved._ But there are plenty of humans who are as bad as him, if not worse. Then there’s this girl… She doesn’t fit the mold of a ‘monster’ at all. Many demons don’t. And that’s the fuckin-

“I came back because I had a bad feeling something was going on in here. Didn’t think I’d run into _you._ ”

“Harada!” Her relief is amusing. It’s not like having Harada here is going to do her much good. But at least it will be fun for him.

Harada’s staring him down when he asks the Yukimura, “Did he hurt you?”

“No, I- I’m alright.”

 _Oh for the love of-_ “This girl is a _demon_. She doesn’t need some weak ass humans protecting her.” This is a challenge. There’s something he wants to read, and Harada just isn’t quite riled up enough yet. “She might look human, but she’s a monster like me. Are you really sure that’s someone- some _thing_ you want to risk your life to protect.”

“We already know that she’s a demon. What’s your point?” Harada’s eyes narrow into a glare, “It doesn’t matter to me if she’s a human or a demon. What matters to me is that she fought with us.”

Shiranui’s mocking jibes aren’t nearly as effective as he thought they would be. The response he’s looking for just isn’t there. And that’s an even more interesting reaction than the one he was trying to draw forth. It doesn’t matter what she is? Heh. He’s heard that one before. But it’s the way Harada says it that gives him pause, he might as well of said ‘water is wet.’ Just how steady is Harada in his belief in this kid? On the surface he appears to be rock solid, but sometimes when you pick up what looks like a rock it turns out to be a clump of dust. What showed promise of firm resistance, crumbles in-between your figures, and poof it’s gone. But maybe Harada will prove him wrong, it wouldn’t be so bad to have to eat his words. This is the most hope he’s had for a human in a long time, he better not be a letdown.

It’s always amusing when humans try to whisper in his presence. As if his ears aren’t sensitive enough to pick up on Harada telling the kid to get the hell out of here while he takes him on. The hushed argument between the two of them that ensues is vague entertaining. She wants to help fight, and won’t take no for an answer. He can hear Harada’s teeth grinding from here, before he relents to her request. Shiranui wonders though… Is she truly brave, or is she just trying to sacrifice herself to see if what he’d said was true? If she thinks bleeding for Harada’s sake will magically make her more human she’s wrong. And if he thinks it’s so easy to turn a blind eye to someone you care for being cut from an entirely different cloth, he’s a fool too. He shifts his posture just the slightest bit into a more aggressive stance. The kid doesn’t seem to notice, but it’s not lost on Harada.

That giant spear comes hurtling towards him. He’d been expecting Harada to be fatigued from the early battle he’d endured, instead his motions are faster, more deliberate. They tested each other out back at Kuge gate. Harada has made some necessary adjustments to the way he tries to tackle Shiranui. Often a spear wielder will have to plant their feet during an attack to counterbalance the additional weight of their longer weapon. Harada never stops moving, never allows himself to become a stationary target. And damn is he angry at Shiranui for screwing with the kid, but unlike her his anger masks his plan of attack instead of revealing it. The rush of air between his skin and the tip of the spear is exhilarating. He can practically taste the metal waiting to bite into his flesh and muscle.

“Oh man, this is great! One-on-one would have been way too easy! But _this_ , this is what I call fun!”

Several rounds leap forward, none connect. He’s missing on purpose, shooting the ground near Harada’s feet or the wall behind him. Each bullet misses by a smaller, and smaller margin. This is a test not only of Harada’s reaction time, but of his nerves. How focused can he stay when a bullet whispers in his ear “almost gotcha.” So far the other doesn’t disappoint. He keeps coming forward, the echoing sounds of each shot tumbling around the room do nothing to slow him down. It’s impressive. So many of the guys fighting outside had frozen at the sounds of gunfire, and become visibly shaken at the sight of comrades getting riddled with holes. Harada doesn’t strike him as the kind to rush to his own death, yet he goes all in when he fights. Doesn’t try to hold himself back, or keep himself out of danger. That’s the only reason he’s lasted this long against Shiranui. Hesitancy breeds disaster on the battlefield. That half-second you take to second guess yourself, is the same half-second your opponent needs to find an opening.

“Have you ever wondered why crossbows never caught on in Japan?” Harada’s question catches him a little off guard. This human is pretty good at surprising him.

“Hmm? What does that have to do with anything? Are we playing trivia games now?”

“A crossbow works great for hitting something that’s sitting still, but hitting a moving target is _real_ hard. Like this!” Harada’s confident smirk stretches into a grin, when he charges forward spear raised above his head.

It’s damn fast, not even he has time to get out of the way. He throws his arms in front of his face instead, grimacing when the spear tears into his arms. Clothes, skin, muscles, all part ways for the metal tip. It runs right into his bone. No matter how quickly he heals there will always be something vaguely disgusting about feeling his soft tissue separate, and hearing his blood slosh onto the floor. _Ouch. Son of a fucking bitch._ This is the worst he’s been injured in quite a long time. He rotates one arm a bit until he can stare at the wound. His skin is ripped, and his clothes matted down with blood. His muscles are exposed, and ligaments severed. He wonders if he were to make the wound deeper, if he were to expose more and more of his innards would he eventually find his old friend there? Of all the things he’s taken apart, he hasn’t tried himself yet.

“Don’t know about you, but it felt to me like I nicked your bone there. You probably ought to have to doctor take a look at that.”

“Idiot. Do you really think that’s all it takes to bring down a demon?” He smiles, feeling his body start to go to work.

“What!?” The widening of Harada’s eyes is almost comical.

Shiranui glances at the kid as the blood flowing from his wound slows to a lazy drip, before stopping completely. Muscles and ligaments find each other, and knit back together. His skin stitches itself up with a precision that no doctor could ever hope to match. He won’t even have a scar left from this wound that would have left a human without proper use of their arms. The whole affair is done in less than ten seconds, with just his shredded sleeve left as a casualty.

“I have to hand it to you that was a pretty good shot. Only fair for me to return the favor.” Laughter explodes from him as a bullet explodes from his gun.

“Harada, watch out!” Yukimura throws herself in the path of the bullet. It greets her shoulder, before it makes itself at home in the warmth of her muscles. There’s blood pouring from the wound, physical proof of the molten pain she must be in.

“Chizuru! Are you ok?” Panic doesn’t sound right in Harada’s voice. It’s a foreigner there, its accent strange to Shiranui’s ears.

“I’m fine.” The bullet has been pushed out of her flesh by her healing abilities, clattering to the floor with a sound that is impossibly loud for the size of the object. The ragged hole begins to close itself up under the careful direction of her demon blood.

Harada’s relief at her reassurance turns to a look of complete shock when the wound finally closes itself completely. Something in Shiranui’s chest turns over at the way he’s looking at her. So much for it not mattering what she was, huh? Humans just can’t help it. Can’t help but be in awe and in fear of a kind of power they don’t understand. It was easy for Harada when Shiranui was the one healing with freakish speed. One more thing to separate him from them. Only problem was when Yukimura healed the same way, that’s something her and Shiranui have in common that Harada does not. And that’s problematic for the human brain. He’d hoped for the kid’s sake (and maybe his own too) that this guy would be different. But that surprise he showed leads to distrust, and resentment. Shiranui has seen it over, and over, and over again. Only one man had been different. Crazy bastard just grinned, and called it ‘awesome.’ Said he was ‘lucky.’ And for as much as that man hadn’t feared his demon powers, he never sought to exploit them either. Never looked at Shiranui as a tool to be used for personal gain. It’s not fair to be pissed at Harada for not being exactly like another, but who ever said he’s fair?

“…I told you. I’m a demon.” Her words are finally the truth. Miserable but accepting.

“Well if you’ve finally decided to act like a demon, that means I can get serious right?” He fires off round after round. One bullet for the way he’d been in so much agony over the death of human. Another for the way he’d wandered around aimlessly, being turned away again and again. A third for every time a human tried to _use_ him. A fourth for the way the way Harada and this girl remind him of everything he thought he’d burned from his memory.

“Damn it!” Harada is slowing down, while Shiranui is just starting to settle into a pace he likes.

They exchange blows, but there’s no progress to be made for Harada. Each wound he inflicts is gone before he can gather himself for another attack. This is starting to get boring. The spear coming towards him is so sluggish his heightened senses don’t even bother to slow it down further. Human have appallingly poor stamina, and Harada appears painfully average right about now. His next shot ricochets against the spear, causing the weapon to leap out of its owner’s hand. Abandoning him in the middle of battle.

He strolls over to where Harada has fallen to his knees, with Yukimura rushing to his side. “Looks like it’s over now.”

The muzzle of his guy is trained on the center of Harada’s forehead. A twitch of his finger, and bang, he’ll be a goner. How many humans has Shiranui killed now? He’s not sure. They’re all so forgettable. Blurred together in his mind, into one giant conglomeration of wastes of his time and energy. Harada has earned a special place though. He is not perfect. There are things about this man that fall short of Shiranui’s hopes, but perhaps he was being a bit unrealistic. Asking a human to fill that hole… That although left by another human, has since been dug deeper and deeper, year after year. It’s a crater by now. An abyss where he throws all of his sadness, uncertainty, and grief. He can’t really expect more than what Harada has given him, a nice distraction from how fucking alone he is. But nothing lasts forever (he’s hopeful that one day even Kazama will croak), and he’ll end Harada’s life. Extinguish it while it’s still blazing brightly. There’s no glory in simply running out of wick.

“For a human you’re pretty impressive. I had fun.” Fun. That’s all he wanted from Harada anyway, right? “So as a reward I’ll listen to your last words. You can say whatever you want! I am partial to poetry though, if you could.”

Harada’s glare dissipates into a comforting glance at Yukimura. “I… I can distract him for a couple of seconds. I don’t have much left, but it should be enough for you to get away.”

“But… It’s my fault!”

“Why is it so hard for you to do what I tell you?” He’s frustrated, but the way he looks at her is filled with affection. “I’m not going to let a women get killed right in front of me if I can do something to prevent it.”

All the blazing heat of battle, and raging anger frosts over. Plummeting to subarctic temperatures. Cold, Shiranui feels very very cold watching the two of them now. Was he wrong again? Harada is _still_ willing to throw his life away for that girl even after seeing proof of monstrous bloodline. And she… She now has undeniable evidence of what she is, and still she’s choosing to stand by a human. It can’t be possible. This isn’t how it works. He’s supposed to be disgusted by her. She’s supposed to turn away from humans. Why won’t they follow the damn rules? When he’d found someone who meant more to him than anything else in his entire life, that had been taken away from him. Because humans are fragile. He’d had to watch illness devour his dear friend, while he could do nothing about it. Had to see that smile day after day, had to be fed comfort from a human. _Oh Kyo-kun, don’t look at me like that,_ or _You’ll be fine, you’re a big scary demon after all,_ and _I’m sorry I can’t stick much longer, but promise me you’ll find someone else who will put up with your bullshit._ Since then he has never found another human, or demon who he can truly call friend. And these two are spitting in his fucking face. They have each other, and everything that he should still have if life weren’t such a raging bitch. That Yukimura girl, what did she do to deserve this kind of loyalty from a human? How has she managed to thread closed the gap between human and demon so easily, when he failed miserably at doing the same? This is stupid. They’re stupid for making him feel like this.

He tosses his hands up in annoyance. He can do annoyed, annoyed is definitely in the safe zone. “Damn, you’re way more boring than I thought. Is this demon girl really that important to you?” He wants to understand how they’ve managed to do it. But it’s too painful. Every second he has to watch her hands fisted in his haori, or Harada’s expression smoothing out into the picture of gentleness for her… It makes him want to stick a needle in his eyes. Oh wait, they’ll just heal. “Alright, so you don’t want to watch her die. I’ll just kill you both at the same time. Sounds good, right? I’ll let you die in each other’s arms, because I’m such a nice guy.”

They’ve both given up, braced themselves for death. His finger tightens on the trigger, but he hesitates. He wants to kill them, wants to get rid of anything that mocks him with everything he’s lost. But he can’t get that fucking voice out of his head. That damn voice telling him that he’s a good person, that he’s _kind._ There is nothing kind about Shiranui Kyo. But _he_ … He always did have an interesting way of looking at things. He’s also dead now. And dead people don’t care what the living do. That’s what he tells himself. All those stories humans make up about continuing on after death are lies. So there’s nothing stopping him from pulling the trigger, nothing at all.

“I didn’t think there would be anyone foolish enough to attack the Shinsengumi’s headquarters in the middle of a war.” That voice. Damn it. That fury guy is here. This day just keeps getting worse doesn’t it? “What is that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Though I don’t recall anyone speaking of you.” Oh, how great. The sub human blood sucker thinks it’s funny.

“Sano! Chizuru! Are you alright?” The brat Amagiri killed is still alive? He must have drank it too… Shiranui regrets not finishing him off that night.

“Hrgh. He was dull, but you two are worse. This is getting to be more trouble than it’s worth, so I’ll let you go for now.”

This is the second time he’s written Harada a pass. Maybe he is getting a bit soft… No. He’s just not up to dealing with thing one and thing two, on top of the shit with Harada and the kid. His patience isn’t winning him any awards to begin with, and these guys are infuriating. He wants to be able to savior killing Harada. He sneers at the man in question. “You know what you saw. She’s a monster. You might want to think long and hard about whether or not she’s worth it.”

The frustration on Harada’s face is pleasing. It’s at least some fraction of how he felt staring at the two of them. But it wouldn’t be fair to give all of his parting advice to Harada, now would it? His grin is back in place when he turns to Yukimura.

“And you. You remember the look on his face when he saw your shoulder heal? That’s how he really feels.” Those words sting the back of this throat. He blames all the gunpowder in the air. “You’re a monster, and that is all you’ll ever be to these people. Just because they don’t say it doesn’t mean that it’s not what every single one of ‘em knows in his gut.”

Then he disappears from the Magistrates office, in a flurry of speed and smoke. If Harada survives long enough for them to meet again, maybe… Just _maybe_ he’ll give him another chance.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Watching has never been one of his favorite pass times. Sitting around observing has always seemed so sterile, so separated. Observing battle is the worst of all. Seeing all the lives lost to poor decisions on the parts of feeble leaders. Really he shouldn’t give shit, technically his ‘side’ is winning. But he can’t help the aggravation that tightens his shoulder muscles, and clenches his jaw. This is like a bad reenactment of Toba-Fushimi. Did the Shinsengumi learn nothing from their previous encounter with a gun wielding opponents? You can’t do shit if you can’t get in close. You can’t get in close if half your troops are so green that they lock up, and become sitting ducks. The _only_ way to have any chance when using a blade against is a gun is to move, constantly. Instead they freeze, and allow themselves to be held in place by the crack of gunfire. Bullets tear through flesh, burrow into muscle, and slam into bone. It’s striking how young many of these who are dying are. Their eagerness choked off into nothing more than a few last twitches, and then they’re dead. Dead or rolling on the ground in pain until someone has the decency to pop a shot into their head. He wonders what led them to this battlefield. What’s inside them that overruled that instinct of self-preservation that every living thing has, so that they could come fight here? These thoughts border on sentimental, tracing a similar pattern to a conversation he’d had years ago. Only now he’s alone think-talking to himself, and that’s pretty pathetic.

There’s a rushed call for retreat that rises from the Shinsengumi side. So their fearless commander finally got the message that throwing lives away for no gain isn’t honorable. It’s pointless slaughter. Those men that died here today accomplished nothing. The loss of their lives will not help their cause, will not win this war, and all they’ve really done is leave the burden of grief to anyone stupid enough to care about the kind of person who gets involved in shit like this. The retreat is hasty, and frantic. Men stumbling down the hill away from the battlefield. And then he sees him. Sees Harada once again leading rear guard. That idiot is on clean up duty for the mistakes of their commander, making sure no more of his comrades die while trying to escape. How noble of him. Shiranui had told himself he was going to sit this one out, wasn’t going to get involved unless things went south for his side. But he has to… He can’t let Harada leave here without confronting him one more time. Because Harada should already be dead quite frankly, and he’d never forgive himself if he gave up an opportunity to lay into this human just one more time.

“Wow, I’m impressed you’re still alive! Didn’t expect to see your ass here.” There’s definitely no fondness creeping into his taunting tone.

“Shiranui!” That little yelp is pretty familiar.

“Still keeping the little monster around? You know she might end up killing you in your sleep.” Those words are a lie constructed from the intricate pieces of jealously and longing that he has long denied the existence of. After all the shit he put them through at Toba-Fushimi he thought for sure that would be enough to split them up. Yet here there are, seemingly closer than ever. Yukimura and Harada stand beside each other in mirror images of trust and support. What the hell do they have that he doesn’t? They’ve managed to keep each other around despite everything trying to tear them apart, and damn if that doesn’t make him feel utterly inadequate. Maybe it wasn’t human weakness that stole his friend… Maybe it was something _he_ failed to do. No. Absolutely not. He _saw_ him cough up blood, and grow thinner and thinner. _Felt_ bones poking out from under what used to be solid muscle. _Heard_ his chest rattle, and his heart go quiet. It wasn’t his fault. It was disease.

“Nah, she wouldn’t do that. I’ve known her for some time now, I’m pretty sure I’ve got her figured out.” Harada’s voice is confident, and proud. He is _proud_ of that weak little thing? It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and things that don’t make sense: Piss. Him. Off.

“Ha! Those are big words for such a pathetic waste of space.” Rage bubbles up and up until he can feel his body come alive with everything a demon truly is. White hair, horns, and golden eyes just the outward expression of the torrent of power flooding within. “Although, I wouldn’t have it any other way. This just makes killing you all the more fun!”

His gun only makes it halfway up before Harada’s spear is lunging at his heart, forcing him to leap backwards. Harada’s no idiot. Shiranui shares something in common with those damn furies. Stabbing his heart will definitely kill him. His gun flashes, and a bullet grazes Harada’s cheek. _I missed?_ The wound is a close call for Harada, but does nothing to slow him down. The tip of the spear is flying back and forth, at such an impressive speed that Shiranui is so busy trying to keep out of range he can’t find time to aim his gun. The spear connects, but not with flesh. Metal strikes metal, and his gun flies from his hand. Isn’t that amusing? The image of Harada’s spear jumping from his hand last time they fought is still fresh in his mind. Guess it’s about time Harada paid him back for that. He should probably be more concerned about the fact that he’s been disarmed by a human, but concern (for himself) isn’t something he’s ever really worried about. Instead he’s struck by just how different Harada is than the last time they battled. How certain he is. There is absolutely no sign of that wavering spirit that makes him want to rip humans apart, and let them figure out how to put themselves back together _without_ that weakness.

“Well damn! What’s up with you? You’re like a completely different man. Did something happen to inspire this change of heart?”

“Actually I should be thanking you. You helped me figure out what it is that I’m fighting for.” Harada is smiling at him, and he knows he’s smiling back. There’s something freeing about fighting someone without holding anything back.

So Harada’s new strength is all for Yukimura after all. Maybe there’s something to be said for her ability to inspire that kind of change, that kind of growth. Harada is _better_ than he was the last time they fought, in more ways than one. It seems he underestimated her. Underestimated her own unique brand of strength. Harada had also said thank you to him… And that’s something he’s only heard from a human once before. Harada is different. Worthy of being killed by him, or being his killer. Whoever wins this battle will be deserving, there will be no hard feelings. This is a fight for their lives, but any ill will has gone up in the flames of their clashing strength. Harada’s spear charges him, and he’s prepared. Prepared to either dodge the menacing weapon and pummel Harada with the force of a true demon, or take that metal point to his heart. Neither of those things happen, the attack is stopped short by a frustrated shout from elsewhere on the battlefield.

“That definitely should have killed him!” Nagakura. And furies if that statement is anything to go by.

“The wounds I inflict heal almost instantly. And they’re so fast. They seem almost like-” Another Shinsengumi captain confirms Shiranui’s suspicion. What the hell are furies doing here?

Nagakura, however, doesn’t seem convinced. “How can they be furies? The fucking sun’s up!”

Shiranui wonders that himself, but they definitely _are_ furies. Red eyes and white hair peek out from under their hats, and with all these dead guys around they’re starting to gorge themselves on blood. Disgusting abominations shouldn’t even exist. Every life, no matter how pathetic, is created with all the parts it needs. Birds, humans, demons, they’re all born with what makes them what nature intended them to be. These furies… They’re artificial. Toxic water added to mangle their systems in a way that produces false power from breaking down their own lives.

“Damnit! What’s going on?” Harada strikes at the furies, but none of his shots are cleanly through the left side of the chest. The just keep coming, and coming.

The furies move on from feeding on the dead, to devouring the blood of the wounded. Cutting them open more, and more. Moans of agony cause Yukimura to cry out. Even Shiranui isn’t heartless enough to not be outraged these beasts. He has never met the men that they’re killing, but nobody deserves to be fed off of by these mindless beasts expect for the man who created them.

“Chizuru, get out of here! You shouldn’t see this!” For once Shiranui agrees with Harada. Demon or not this is a lot for the kid to be taking. Harada turns viciously on him. “Explain yourself! You brought these guys, didn’t you Shiranui!?”

He pauses a moment, before snatching his gun off the ground. There are a lot of things he wants to say, wants to do… He could just about strangle Harada for implying that he’d have anything to do with these furies. But he bites it back. That won’t help now.

“…No. They aren’t with me.” But there’s someone else who they must belong to, “I only know one guy who can make these creeps.”

Kodo Yukimura shows his face, much to the shock of the kid. That bastard has always pissed Shiranui off something fierce. He acts as though his wretched creations are helpful, that they’re an improvement from a human comparable to a demon. Humans are fragile, and he hates them for that. Hates having been left alone because of that. But furies are worse, will always be worse. Because their strength isn’t strength at all. How can a creature that can’t even control its own fucking will be called strong? What the hell does healing quick matter when the only thing they’re good for is mindless murder? Everything has to have a reason. For everyone he’s killed, he’s had a reason. Some better than others, but he has always been able to _rationalize_ it. There is nothing rationale about furies.

Yukimura squeaks out something that sounds like ‘father.’

“It’s been a while, Chizuru.” That kind voice Kodo’s using is so fake he can practically taste the insincerity underneath the surface. His smile seems to be familiar to the kid, but it looks like it’s full of worms to Shiranui. Any man who so blatantly disregards life, whether it be human or demon, isn’t capable of fatherly love.

“Fuck off you bastard! What the hell do you think you’re doing bringing those _things_ here?” He’s practically shouting.

“That was quite rude. These furies are my precious children.” Kodo’s admiration for his ‘children’ is despicable. How can he call those beasts his children, when his daughter is standing right there? This guy is a genuine loon.

“Children?” Harada would appear to be in the ‘Kodo is fucking nut camp’ along with Shiranui.

“I’ve poured years and years into researching furies. Soon they will become their own race which will far surpass humanity.” There’s that wormy smile again, “You know furies had an issue with sunlight. So I researched overcoming that weakness, and bred a new breed of fury. Aren’t you impressed by the fruits of my labor? They are unstoppable!”

“You must be fucking insane! These are just bad copies!” He can only listen to so much of Kodo’s spouting about furies, and surpassing humanity before he’s ready to snap. This is wrong. Furies will do nothing but destroy the whole damn country. And Kazama was worried about the destructive nature of humans… Wait. Kazama. “I thought these experiments were supposed to have been stopped. Did Kazama tell you to do this?!”

Kodo shrugs his shoulders, with a half smile on his face. “Imitations or not, they have their uses. Even the infamous Shinsengumi can’t stand up to my army.” There’s a spark of his earlier maniac behavior glinting in his eyes, “With these furies at my command, I could easily overthrow any government – here or abroad! Furies will become the demons of the next era!”

“What the hell is that son of a bitch Kazama thinking!?” He’s roaring with anger now. Kodo would be wise to remember that his furies are no match for a real demon. Even Kodo himself, despite his own demon blood, isn’t much of a match for Shiranui. And Kazama… Someone needs to deal with that asshole. “These monsters shouldn’t exist! If they start running around Japan’s done for!”

Shiranui claims to hate many things, but furies have to be the most vile things he has ever come across. They are neither human nor demon, but their existence is the product of qualities of both coming together in the most hideous ways. Human greed drips from their sharpened teeth. Demon strength is bound up in their blood, but is unable to be contained by weak human flesh. The destructive nature of a human is enabled by the healing properties of a demon. Demonic rage overwhelms a human brain, until it decays into _blood, hunger, blood, kill._ These pitiable creatures are torn between two different species. Kodo is wrong, they will never be their own race because they cannot exist independently of these faults. It is what is human, and what is demon about them that makes a fury. If Shiranui sucks at putting things together, Kodo sucks worse. He has taken pieces of humans, and pieces of demons and forced them together. Using force for this kind of stuff almost always backfires. The more you try to jam things together, the more they wreck each other. Furies are ruined scraps of demon sewn into damaged human skins. They need to be wiped out. If there is any chance of Japan being the country _he_ wanted it to be, these things cannot exist.

“Hey! How about we call it a truce?” This is his third time letting Harada off the hook. But the two of them are not as different as he thought they were, they want mostly the same things. And if he were to be brutally honest with himself, he’s not so sure he even wants to keep fighting Harada. It might be nice to be on the same side, so he grins at him. “Someone’s gotta clean up these fakes!”

“Joining up? I have no problems with that.” Harada’s voice manages to climb over the sounds of his gun ripping through furies. Despite his terrible rage, and the chaos of battle there’s something… nice? About hearing Harada agree to work with him. Unlike those Satsuma dogs he’d had to help out, Harada is actually worth calling a comrade. His spear makes quick work of several furies who had been crowded over a corpse. The way he wields that gigantic skewer of his, it’s something to be admired. There’s nothing wasted in his technique, every rotation of the shaft, every strike with the trip has a distinct goal. He’s more efficient than most humans. Makes better use of what little strength they have.

“What can a human and an obsolete demon do?” Shiranui is certainly not a parent by any stretch of the imagination, but the smugness Kodo radiates seems pretty damn warped for someone whose ‘children’ are being killed.

Then it dawns on him. There’s blood _everywhere._ Between the humans lying dead from the earlier fighting, and the furies they’ve managed to wound or kill the ground is soaked in red. Hell he’s covered in blood. That sick fucking bastard. Kodo is using the human battle to feed his awful creations, and the lot of them are going down with the dead guys if the tightening ring of furies has anything to say about it.

“Damnit!” Harada sounds wiped out. Each fucking fury they kill is just bait for more to come and lap up the blood.

“Sano, we’ve got to retreat! There’s just too many of them.” Nagakura is right. If Harada and the others keep this up they’re going to get themselves killed. The amount of furies is just too overwhelming for their already exhausted human bodies.

“Hurry up and get out of there! You will just waste your energy if you keep going like this!” The shout of that other captain is difficult to hear over the screeching furies.

“I know, I just-” There’s desperation, and tiredness in Harada’s voice while his eyes dart around looking for a way out. This is bad for these humans. Every swing of their weapons grows more and more sluggish. Attacks that were pinpoint accurate, now hit generally the right area. But close doesn’t cut it when it comes to fighting these creeps. If this goes on much longer Harada and his pals are fucked. And he’ll be damned if he lets a fucking cheap ass copy take the joy of killing that human from him.

Shiranui grins. “Hey Harada! How about I distract these bastards for a second and you guys make a run for it?”

“What about you?” The concern would be touching, were it not swept away by the adrenaline of battle. It’s been years and years since a human has shown any real interest in what happens to him.

“Ugh. You think I’m as weak and easily tired as you?” The words are harsher than his tone. “Please. It will take a lot more than bundle of rejects to kill a real demon.”

Harada looks still looks uneasy, but there are no other options. If they want to live, they need to leave Kodo and his furies up to him.

“Count to ten, and then ram into that one over there.” His head jerks toward one of the feasting furies, “Their ranks are thinnest over there, it’s your best shot. Don’t screw it up.”

“Got it.”

“Have you given up already? I thought you would provide my furies at least a little more of a challenge.” Kodo might just manage to tie Kazama on his, “bastards who I want to kill” list.

“GO!” His gun roars to life at the same time it destroys that of a fury. The dead creature falls backwards, unbalancing several of its… Pack? Horde? Gaggle? What the hell do you call a group of furies? Just as he’s decided that ‘horde’ seems most appropriate, Harada smashes through the line of furies with the kid tucked under his arm. Excellent. He managed to not mess it up. The humans tear down the hill, and he pumps lead into the backs of any furies that try to give chase.

“Harada! I’m leaving that demon girl with you for now. Make sure you keep her safe. Female demons are really valuable, so try not to let her get killed!” The furies closing in can’t suffocate his smile. “We’ll finish our fight next time I see you! Got it?”

The promise of a fight is the only way he knows how to tell Harada, ‘don’t go getting your ass killed before we meet again.’ Kind words, and comforting thoughts are strangers to him. Maybe once upon a time he would have been able to say something like “be safe,” or even “I’ll see you later!” But it’s been too long. Those sentiments are atrophied like muscles that have gone unused. Trying to express them is near impossible. They’re so emaciated that they don’t have the strength to crawl out of his mouth, so they sit and waste away in his heart and mind. But that hasn’t bothered him until Harada. His parting words to him seem sorely lacking, but really what can Shiranui offer other than a good fight anyway? Fighting comes easily. Fighting lets him grab on to bits and pieces of another, and cage them between his fingers. Hold them there until he has managed to wring some sort of understanding from them. There’s draw backs. Not _everything_ can be expressed in bullet holes, and flying fists. Sometimes all you end up doing is breaking each other apart, until one guy is dead and other can’t remember why he thought this was worth it. Humans die so easily, there’s no guarantee he will ever see Harada again with the country in the mess it’s in now. He could die in battle tomorrow, but tomorrow is not today. Shiranui bought him at least a little more time, Harada best spend it wisely.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Everything happens so friggin fast, it’s a struggle to piece together exactly what’s going on. Spear, Kodo, then gun? No, that’s not it. First his gun jams, then a spear whizzes past his head, and finally Kodo Yukimura drops dead. The shaft of the weapon wobbles a bit from where it protrudes from the man’s chest. His fucking gun would pick the exact moment when he’s about to kill that son of a bitch to lock up, wouldn’t it? Thousands, and thousands of shots fired no problem. But when it counts most, it comes up short. Maybe his gun is taking after him. His eyes fall to Kodo’s hand, where spidery fingers are still wrapped around a bomb and piece of flint. Demons may heal from any wound that doesn’t involve a pieced heart or severed head, but you can’t really heal when you’re torn into ten different pieces. If it weren’t for Harada he might be dead. Is that awesome? Saved by a human. There’s a thought would have pissed him off, but today it makes him feel sort of warm inside. He’s rather fond of being alive despite his intimate relationship with death. And Kodo is dead, so mission accomplished there. That spear finished what he couldn’t do. Harada really is one hell of human. His face feels funny when he smiles. It’s a different kind of smile. Normally dormant muscles do their best to shape his lips into an expression that isn’t a smirk, or a grin. Their efforts are dashed when he glances over his shoulder at Harada.

He’s leaning against a tree for support, one hand gripping at his side with blood dripping down the back of his knuckles. There’s a brokenness to the outline of his body that Shiranui recognizes with agonizing dread. He’s seen this many times before. Has seen death yank on the insides of a human until they’re all mangled up. But this is only the second time the sight wrenches something inside _him._ Damn does it hurt _._ Every step he takes toward Harada shears away another ribbon of his guts. But he moves his feet anyway. He fucked up last time. Last time he lost a friend, he’d screamed, shouted, thrown a fit. Probably made it a hell of a lot harder on Takasugi. He’d been sick for so long, but Shiranui was still unprepared for his death. Nobody had warned him that grief and fear were so strikingly similar. Grief twirling fear around in its arms until he couldn’t tell what was worse, having Takasugi torn away from him or fearing having to figure out how to live without him. And here he is again. Life loves to screw him over, giving him a second chance at watching someone die. Thanks a bunch, asshole. But there are other things that take precedence over his pain, like Harada and the agony he must be in as he slides down the tree into a sitting position.

Shiranui drops down beside him. Harada’s ragged breaths are too loud, and too soft all at once. They scream death, and whisper life. It’s almost infuriating. _Stop dying!_ It’s a useless command, so he won’t bother speaking it. And he knows. Knows that this violent anger that masquerades as being aimed toward Harada, is really pointed at his own heart. _How did I let this happen again?_ The anger that bruises his mind with vicious strikes, is self-punishment. For all he goes on about the superiority of demon strength, he can’t even save a stupid human? He’d maneuvered himself between Harada and the attacks of some of the furies several times, buying Harada time just like the he did back at Kofu. The holes, and tears in his clothes are the only proof remaining of the wounds he’d taken for another. And it wasn’t enough. He’d sneered at that poor kid (she’ll be devastated when she learns that Harada came here to stop her father and his furies) that she wouldn’t be enough to save her Shinsengumi friends, and he’s the one who failed again. He couldn’t cure Takasugi’s illness, and he can’t repair the wounds that will kill Harada. Can’t magically share the benefits of his demon blood that sometimes feel a whole lot like a curse. Having gone through this once already should have given him some practice, but he’s still struggling. Still unsure of his footing, every step feels wrong. Like his weight will shatter whatever’s left of this fragile moment.

This one measly human life has managed to affect him so greatly that he’s scared to look at Harada. Scared to lock eyes with him, and watch as the man he’s grown to respect so deeply ceases to exist. He might just fucking lose it again if the silence doesn’t get to him first. Why can’t he speak? Why is he so depressingly bad at this? Takasugi was the kind of person you’d want with you when you died. He’d be able to smile, and take the pieces of his own breaking heart and pull from them a ridiculous amount of love and kindness that you would never expect a guy who lived so much of his life on the battlefield to be capable of. Nope, instead it’s Shiranui who’s still here. Him whose solution to most problems is to beat the shit out of them, throw a tantrum, or laugh in their face, and those are all ridiculously unhelpful right now. There’s nothing that he knows how to do that can make this any better for Harada. So he toys with his gun instead, tries to figure out what the hell went wrong. The gun itself looks fine. But the casing of his last bullet… It’s ever so slightly too big, riding too high in the cylinder so that it locked against the frame of the gun. One piece outta whack. One half a centimeter off, and it almost cost him his life. Guns are not infallible, neither are demons.

“Shiranui…” His name is broken into shuttering bits of a sound, but it’s enough that he finally turns to look at Harada. “Tell me... About your friend.”

Jackass is more like Takasugi than he knows, giving Shiranui a way to express himself when he doesn’t know how else. He may not be able to find the words he wants to give Harada, but he can share Takasugi. His dear friend’s loss tore parts of him to bits that will never be the same as they once were…. But his memory, that is clear and unchanging. Unclouded by the choking despair that gags him every time he tries to work through how best to send Harada off. Takasugi’s life was so full, despite its short length. There is so much he could tell Harada. There isn’t enough breath in his lungs to share every little thing that made him so foolishly attached to that human, so he’ll have to choose wisely. He could talk about all the incredible victories he’d won for Choshu, or the way his swordsmanship was in a class of its own. He could tell Harada about how the two of them had met, or about how they had said goodbye. But all these things aren’t really what had mattered to him.

“His laugh was annoying as all hell.” Shiranui manages to smile. “And man did he laugh at _everything._ You know the first time I told him I was a demon, he laughed. Fucking dumbass.”

His words are harsh, unkind even. But there’s a fondness there that Harada must pick up on because he tries to laugh, until his breath seizes up and morphs into a cough. The sound cranks the muscles in Shiranui’s shoulders tighter. Harada’s hand shakes against where it clutches his side, trying to pin the life that’s leaking out. His skin is getting paler, and paler. It’s coming, but Shiranui needs to keep talking.

“He loved to have fun. Would always be trying to get me to go drinking with him.” Something lodges in his throat, but he swallows it down. Who cares if it burns the whole way down? “I thought he was screwing around, but eventually I caught on that it was his way of trying to get me to talk to him. He’d ask the weirdest questions, like if I preferred sunrise or sunset. Or what my favorite thing about myself was.”

Harada’s eyes which have been filled with the pain of dying, flicker with something warmer. He’s probably remembering his own friends. The ones he was supposed to meet up with. Shiranui plows forward.

“I have a nasty temper.” Harada snorts, and Shiranui’s lips curl in mock outrage.

“But he was never afraid of me. Not afraid of much actually. Not even dying.” The next part snags on some jagged pieces of him, but he tears it free. Hopes his voice isn’t as shaky as he feels. “He fought for his teacher’s ideals, even when it was literarily killing him. When I asked him what the fuck made him keep going, he told me he could feel his teacher’s spirit with him. I told him he was idiot for putting himself through so much shit for a dead guy who doesn’t care.”

“You don’t believe-” The thinness of Harada’s voice would have snapped something inside him, were it not already bent beyond recognition. “in spirits?”

“Nah. It’s a stupid idea that humans tell themselves so they can feel better about dying. So that they can feel like their delicate little lives actually have some meaning.” These are terrible words to hand to a dying man, but Harada doesn’t even flinch at them. Instead he spins them around, tries to show Shiranui what he could never figure out from just _watching_ humans live and die. Manipulates all the pieces that Shiranui’s fingers were too clumsy to snap together.

“You’re right. Humans are weak, we die easily. And we-” A gasping breath, “try to give meaning to things that probably have no meaning at all. But that’s what a human life is all about. Trying create as much meaning as you possibly can before your time is up.”

Shiranui offers him a wry smile, “You humans may be alright with burning yourselves out like that, but you need to think about the people you leave behind.”

Harada’s eyes widen, but he smiles through his surprise. He understands. Understands that Shiranui has grown to see him he as a friend. Different from Takasugi, but a friend none the less and now Harada is dying too. It’s always easier for the one who dies. They’re gone, and all the most unpleasant parts of death are left piled onto the ones who cared about them. By dying here Harada is saddling him with a tremendous burden. It’s him who will suffer through trying to put himself back together. He thinks that after Takasugi died he lost a piece of himself, it will probably be the same with Harada. He’ll get himself all back together, and everything will seem fine. Until he moves _just_ right, and realizes that something is off. Harada has helped him, given him a challenge in every sense. Challenged his skill as a warrior, challenged what he held to be true about humans, and challenged him to take a better look at himself. What a jerk to be leaving him alone before he can figure it all out. His mouth opens to tell Harada that, but snaps closed when he notices Harada’s eyes slipping closed. It feels like Harada’s fucking spear is winding his intestines around its point. Is this it? His hand grabs Harada’s hand. It’s sticky and warm with the blood from his wound. This is not like him, he doesn’t provide comfort like this. But Harada’s injury is severe, there’s pain, and there’s loss, but Shiranui’s tough. He’ll let Harada squeeze his hand with all the strength he has left. Let Harada pass all that suffering onto him, so he can go in peace. He squeezes gently in return. _I won’t forget you,_ and _thank you,_ things he should say but can’t. Instead he bites down on his own lip to stop what might be a sob, as he feels Harada’s grip go slack. Breathing stops, a heart ceases to beat. He’s dead.

Untangling his fingers from Harada’s is easier than untangling his thoughts. He looks down at his hand, it’s covered in blood that is lined with the impression of Harada’s hand. That handprint will dry (if he doesn’t wipe it off first), and flake away. Eventually every bit of Harada’s body will crumble into dust, indistinguishable from the rest of the earth. Nothing left. Nothing permanent. The world does not care that Harada Sanosuke is dead. A few other people do (will), but they too will be gone someday. Thinking too deeply about this won’t help anything. There are things he has to do. Loose ends that need tying up, before he pulls apart his emotions and tries to access the damage done. Harada’s body looks terrible. Cuts, bruises, dirt, blood. He untangles his scarf from his neck, and begins to wipe Harada’s hands and face. Working dirt out of the cracks between callouses on fingers, brushing hair away from closed eyes, swiping blood off of cheek bones. When he finally thinks he’s got Harada as clean as he’s going to get him, he rolls the scarf up and places it behind his head like a pillow.

It’s not much, but it’s something. Gestures for the dead never seem to be enough. Never seem to add up the value of their life. He silently debates carrying Harada’s body to Aizu where the other Shinsengumi guys are. But he honestly doesn’t think he can. The weight of the body itself wouldn’t be too bad, but there’s something heavier hanging over it that Shiranui doesn’t think he can lift. As much as he doesn’t want to do it, he’ll have to leave Harada here. The spear will make the trip to Aizu in Harada’s place. He can manage that much. Deliver the weapon that helped the Shinsengumi (and even saved Shiranui’s life) to them. He’ll pass it off to Nagakura. Maybe it’s presumptuous, but he thinks that’s what Harada would want. Now he and Nagakura have something in common. Losing a best friend. There’s agony left from Takasugi that he still can’t touch, he’s sure there will be emotions about Harada that will sting for a long to come as well. But maybe having his spear will help Nagakura out a bit. Help him to have a physical representation of everything his friend was, and everything he did. With any luck he’ll be able to help Yukimura in turn. She’s lost a father, and a friend (something more?) and she doesn’t even know it yet.

Ripping the spear out of Kodo’s chest feels good, kicking his body feels even better. Looking at Kodo’s face whispers to him that if he’d succeeded in killing him at Kofu then maybe Harada would still be alive. That thought stings like a nest of bees. He did everything he could that day. Beating himself up over it will change nothing (he’ll still drink himself stupid next time he thinks of it). Removing the blood from the spear is deceptively easy. It rubs right off, while the effort it took to get the blood on there in the first place had been much greater. The spear’s shaft feels strange yet comfortable in his hands. A weapon he has no experience wielding himself, but it’s worn where Harada’s hands had gripped it. When he holds it in those same spots he can still feel lingering warmth. Warmth that’s leaving Harada’s body but filling his mind. When he closes his eyes he can see Harada standing before him. Defiantly holding the tip of that spear right to his forehead. His memory ripples, pictures becoming distorting before sharpening into the image of Harada tearing through a fury that had almost snuck up on him. He could stand here for hours, but there’s no point in lingering. He’s alive, and there’s nothing else he can do for a dead man. But wait. One last thing. Walking back over to Harada might as well be stepping on hot coals. Each step burns with grief, and loss. His hand reaches out, fingers trailing over the fabric of Harada’s uniform. It’s rough with grit, and drying blood. He plucks a single button. The threads offer little resistance, yielding the tiny closure to him. He’s giving the spear to Nagakura, but he needs something for himself. Some little thing that he can pretend fits in the hole Harada has left in him. Someday when everything is a little less raw, he’ll be able to take that button out and remember it all. Kuge gate, Aburano Kouji, Toba-Fushimi, Kofu, and here outside of Aizu… Each part a different phase of Harada and Shiranui. Curiosity, rivalry, and finally friendship. Each step of him getting in over his head with a human, again. The only promises he seems to break are the ones he makes to himself. He laughs as his feet trudge towards Aizu. Harada seemed to believe in spirits. Shiranui is doubtful, it seems too convenient. Too easy compared the struggles they endure in life. How can some intangible part of you survive what your body could not? But he’s been wrong before. And if Harada is right then he prays that someday he’ll see both him and Takasugi again.

_Take it easy, you jerk._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO SORRY, SANO! 
> 
> Anyway, this is what happens when I try to write a Shiranui & Harada bromance fic, but Shiranui just takes it over. 
> 
> Shiranui was really fun to write, and I hope I captured him correctly. His way of speaking/thinking is very different than other characters I've written, so I hope my writing didn't become to 'clunky' in trying to depict his _different_ attitude. I think Shiranui learns something from Sano and Chizuru, despite how awful he is to them (especially during Toba-Fushimi), and wanted to show the progression he goes through.
> 
> (Also, I owe Sano a nice fic where he doesn't die. I blame Shiranui's need to cause me pain.)


End file.
